Christina Rossetti: 'The Love of Christ Which Passeth Knowledge'

'The Love of Christ Which Passeth Knowledge'

I bore with thee long weary days and nights,   Through many pangs of heart, through many tears; I bore with thee, thy hardness, coldness, slights,     For three and thirty years.
Who else had dared for thee what I have dared?   I plunged the depth most deep from bliss above; I not My flesh, I not My spirit spared:     Give thou Me love for love.
For thee I thirsted in the daily drouth,   For thee I trembled in the nightly frost: Much sweeter thou than honey to My mouth:     Why wilt thou still be lost?
I bore thee on My shoulders and rejoiced:   Men only marked upon My shoulders borne The branding cross; and shouted hungry-voiced,     Or wagged their heads in scorn.
Thee did nails grave upon My hands, thy name   Did thorns for frontlets stamp between Mine eyes: I, Holy One, put on thy guilt and shame;     I, God, Priest, Sacrifice. 
A thief upon My right hand and My left;   Six hours alone, athirst, in misery: At length in death one smote My heart and cleft     A hiding-place for thee.
Nailed to the racking cross, than bed of down   More dear, whereon to stretch Myself and sleep: So did I win a kingdom,—share my crown;     A harvest,—come and reap.